


Hot Ticket Job

by SenkoWakimarin



Series: GUNTP Bonus Material [2]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Cute, M/M, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 13:53:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19854559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenkoWakimarin/pseuds/SenkoWakimarin
Summary: Staying in a crappy motel during a heatwave with broken AC and both your fuck buddies is a special kind of torture.





	Hot Ticket Job

**Author's Note:**

> A GUNTP fic that's NOT rated E? Be still my broken meat.
> 
> Written to drag my sorry ass out of a writing rut. I wanted to keep it short, less than 1K, because I haven't done a REAL short fic in a minute. Took a whole 20 minutes.

"Spit on me. Either of you, both of you, come on."

Frank groans squeezing his eyes tighter closed and trying to keep as still as he could. Even changing expressions seemed like an effort, and effort made the heat just that much more oppressive. Across the room, Cable makes a disgusted noise and tells Wilson not to be disgusting, which is a fucking impossible request.

Sure enough, Wade immediately responds, "Well, Frank made piss a hard no already but if you wanna join me alone in the bed, he's got his eyes closed and we can pretend you're frying chicken."

"Christ's sake," Frank grumbles, shifting where he lays, trying to ignore the nasty slick of his sweat and the grittiness of the dirt that's stuck to him because of it. "Wilson, you don't shut the fuck up, I'm gonna have to cut your fuckin' tongue out."

"Kinky," Wilson says above him, and when Frank opens his eyes it to see Wade dangling upside down off the bed. Frank is on the floor, where minutes ago Wade had also been. Even in this oppressive heat, the man could move like a cat, silent and fast. "Hey, since we're already all gross and sweaty and under-dressed..."

Frank makes a face he hopes communicates his absolute distaste for the offer at this moment. "If you touch me, I'll cut your hand off."

"So many knife options today," Wilson says happily. "What if I use my foot?"

"Try it," Frank says grimly, hand going toward the ka-bar strapped to his calve. Wilson laughs like it's a good joke, rolling to lay on his stomach. Frank's lost his shirt; Wilson had shucked his within the first ten minutes of being in this hot, cramped little room, and then less than five minutes after that, his pants as well. By this point, Frank wouldn't be shocked if his underwear were gone as well.

Cable has all his clothes on. Cable is the only one doing anything useful; while Frank tries not to melt through the floor and Wade bitches about the heat and shittiness of the motel's only free room having no working AC, Cable is working on the window unit, seeing if he can get it running.

He has to be as hot as either one of them. When Frank glances at him, there's a growing stain of sweat spreading down his back, slicking his dark shirt to his skin. His metal arm even looks shinier. Even in the sweltering hell of this room, sweaty, hair matted to his scalp, Cable looks good. Solid, straight-backed, competent as he grimly pokes around at the guts of the air conditioner.

"Wade, do you have anything with a narrow, short blade?" Cable asks, not turning. It's fine; Frank can hear the smug smile in his voice, and there's a sensation of fondness that sweeps through him, like a kiss on the cheek except straight to his brain. 

Wilson chirps something nonsensical about 'tools of all shapes and sizes' and rolls off the bed and onto the floor toward his bags. Once, Frank would have needed to keep watch over his own supplies, made sure Wilson didn't snoop or get handsy with any of his gear. Now he closes his eyes and tries to force himself to relax, because relaxed people were supposedly less bothered by the heat or some shit. 

He listens from the floor as Wade digs out a few options from the mess he keeps in his duffel bags. Cable selects one, tries it, makes a frustrated noise. Wade says some weird, Wade-esque bullshit that he probably thinks is encouraging, offers Cable something else. 

There's a click, a hopeful noise from one of them, and then a beep. After a second, the AC rattles to life, and the sound is so beautiful Frank laughs at the sound of Wade making himself cry. 

"Okay, dibsies on the shower, gratitude fuck after I'm not literally made of sweat!" Wade says, and Frank hears him run off for the en suite. He smiles, eyes closed again, at the muffled sound of cursing as Wilson realizes that with the bathroom door shut the bathroom remains just as hot as it would be without the AC on at all. After a second of the water running, it shuts off and Wilson sticks his head out to ask, "Can I just suck you off and we fuck post-job, in civilization, with central air and none of us glued to the floor?"

Cable laughs, and from this angle Cable looks as tall, as broad and big as he feels in Frank's mind, peeling his shirt off and wiping his face off with it before tossing it on the floor. "Get on the bed and we'll see," he says, and then looks down at last at Frank, expression amused. "You too, Lieutenant."

"It's still too fucking hot," Frank protests, remaining right where he is until Cable's staring at him becomes unbearable and he _has_ to move to make him quit.

"That's fine," Cable says, moving to sit on the bed and get his boots off. Wade's already stretched out by the pillows, laying wrong-ways. "You can just watch."


End file.
